


The Upward Mobility Murders

by Gozer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Poetry, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:38:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gozer/pseuds/Gozer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kind of thing you'd read as a bumper at the end of stories in "Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine" back in the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Upward Mobility Murders

**Author's Note:**

> My mom was pretty cool and a little fannish: we actually attended several "Bouchercons" in Manhattan back in the 90s! She introduced me to "Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine" when I was quite tiny, and it fed my need to read. I found this poem while I was cleaning out her house for sale and remembered that I wrote it for her for Mother's Day 1998, to stick in the card.

**The Upward Mobility Murders**

By Gozer 

When Uncle Nigel saw Aunt Ruth  
With Billy-Bob, he knew the truth:  
Her fancy’d turned to young Bill-Bob,  
Soon Uncle Nige would lose his job.

For he’d succeeded Uncle Jim,  
And soon Bill-Bob would supplant him.  
No more late nights on Riviera;  
His Rolls become a Ford Fiera;  
His caviar and quails’ eggs, nipped—  
He’d be cheeze-puffed, potato-chipped!  
Armani suits, silk shirts and ties, gone—  
Instead of cashmere, tacky nylon!

For Auntie Ruth had loads of cash,  
But Nigel? None, an empty stash.  
He’d signed a pre-nup, it was legal;  
Yet Nigel held his head up, regal.  
“Sweet little Alice,” pleaded he,  
(Just so you know, Alice is me.)  
“Should Aunt Ruth find eternal peace,  
You’d always be my favorite niece!”

And so, Aunt Ruth and I drove off in  
My red Honda, soon her coffin,  
The CRX sank out of sight;  
My alibi would be air-tight.  
More air-tight than my car, I think,  
As bubbles marked where it did sink.  
I found my bike behind a tree  
And pedaled off, quite ruthlessly.

“Why yes! Alice has been right here  
With me all day,” said Uncle dear  
To Chief Inspector Michael Mile  
(He was quite cute, I dug his style.)  
“In fact, Aunt Ruthie’s car broke down  
She took my Honda into town.”  
When Michael told us Ruth was dead,  
I shed a tear, Nige hung his head. 

That night, I poisoned Uncle “N”,  
Arranged his corpse, took up a pen:  
“I cannot live without my Ruth,  
I took my life, and that’s the truth.”  
For money shared is money lost,  
Sometimes you kill, then count the cost  
Of splitting an inheritance—  
To keep it all made better sense. 

The next day, Michael Mile returned  
To share with me what he had learned:  
Aunt Ruthie’s lungs were free of water,  
So drowning’s not the thing that got her.  
It seemed someone had bashed her head,  
That’s how she had become quite dead.  
Bike tire-tracks in the new-turned loam  
Had led from there to here: to home!

I’ve learned my lesson here in jail,  
Where I’ve been held, no hope of bail:  
Cover your tracks when you ride a bike,  
And don’t screw with Inspector Mike.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha, ha, ha! "Ruthlessly"!!! *snerk*
> 
> *pats self on back for bad pun*


End file.
